Treatment for Writer's Block
by Bunny Soshi
Summary: What happens when Ghost Writer expresses his distraught towards writer's block? Danny has just the idea to treat it, and Ghost Writer certainly does not mind. Ghost Writer/Danny  Iambic Prose  Slight OOC, citrus inside. For DarkAngel048


A/N: Whew, wrote most of this all in one go. Is this a oneshot or a drabble? I do not know. It definitely did not start off as a PWP, but I suppose that's what it ended up to be. Written for Vamprincess38, hope you like. This is my first time writing Iambic Prose, and I am excite. I tried to add a plot, I did try I say, but in the end it didn't exactly flow the right way. So, disheartened, I removed the nonsensical plot bits; and now that I am done rambling, I present to you this.

x_x_x_x_x

"Did you see the look on Vlad's face?" Danny Phantom laughed, allowing himself to fall onto the luxurious queen-sized bed and enjoying its comfort, one of the few items in his apartment that he had spent a decent wad of cash purchasing. The silken sheets felt like clouds against his bare skin considering the multiple layers of material that he was wearing just moments before.

"Well," the other inhabitant of the room chuckled, amused. "You just told him a time and location. You certainly did not mention that he was to be attending a wedding."

"He's such a fruitloop," Danny stretched his arms, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He was exhausted and decided to welcome his human form as the familiar pair of glowing rings flashed at his midsection. After all, wedding ceremonies weren't exactly a walk in the park even if all the physical activity of the day paled in comparison to flying around and catching ghosts to trap inside the thermos. "It was nice that no one attacked me. I kind of liked that."

"I must admit I am afraid to know about the violent tendencies of marriages in your culture. In the Ghost Zone, it is always rude to break traditional values, especially concerning truces for special occasions."

"Like you did that time on Christmas?"

"I was simply teaching you a lesson, my dear wife. You did not show remorse for destroying the poem I worked so hard on after all. In fact, you appeared to be quite happy about it." Ghost Writer rolled his eyes, removing his jacket and neatly hanging it in the closet.

"Wife? I'm not the one wearing the dr-" Danny began, then quieted immediately, crossing his arms over his chest and sending a glare in the general direction of his husband. It was a rather lovely dress that he wore to their event- a strapless; eggshell white in color with a black rose decorations. He had phased it off the moment the two had entered Danny's apartment, feeling much more comfortable and less embarrassed in his boxers. If he had the choice, he would have worn a suit to his wedding (after all, the last time he checked he was male), but a bet revolving around some riddles and rhyme schemes with his fiance at the time told otherwise. He should have known better than to strike a deal with a spirit that lived in a library about literature, considering that English was still not his best subject despite the endless amounts of tutoring throughout the years.

"Yeah well, I hated Christmas."

"I did not find the holiday to be favorable either, but you certainly did not hear me complain about it non-stop and shooting ecto-blasts at other peoples' masterpieces."

"So...why did you put me in your poem if you hated the Christmas?" He asked innocently, knowing fully well that Ghost Writer did not enjoy the holiday. To be more specific, it did not really affect the specter as much as the others in the ghost zone since he kept interaction with other ghosts to a minimum on a daily basis. Interaction with other ghosts interfered with his dedication to writing, he had said.

"Because it was a form of punishment, and I lacked inspiration." Ghost Writer replied nonchalantly.

"Lacked inspiration?" Danny mused, taking a moment to admire the beautiful white-gold wedding band resting around his left ring finger. "Oh come on, you couldn't possibly tell me that you out of all people..well, ghosts, had a case of writer's block?"

"One would have thought that this infernal inability to write anything sensible would not pass to the afterlife as well."

Danny's eyes shone with mirth, before they lighted up mischievously and a grin with the intensity rivaling the Cheshire cat was plastered onto his face. "Haven't you tried...? Oh, I'm surprised you don't know the treatment for writer's block."

Ghost Writer raised an eyebrow, slightly interested in the sudden conversation, but turning to face the halfa with an expression of disbelief. "Oh, and what does this treatment consist of?"

"It's a simple three-step process, actually. Step one, come here." He beckoned his lover, to which the addressed one complied.

Danny sat up from his comfortable position and placed his hands on the ghost's shoulders, leaning forward. His mouth was but a centimeter away from Ghost Writer's ear, and his hands briskly began to undo the ghost's long sleeve button-down shirt. "Step two, take it off."

He pushed the material from Ghost Writer's shoulders and allowed the discarded fabric to fall onto the bed. Wrapping an arm around the back of his lawfully wedded partner's face, he pulled them both in a close embrace.

"Step three, touch me."

Emerald eyes met baby blue ones, as the ghost gently touched his halfa's face, pale fingers tracing down the other's jaw.

Danny's breath hitched with the contact, feeling those hands cup his face and press themselves against his shoulders as a pair of lips claimed his own. He subconsciously wrapped his arms around Ghost Writer's neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss and battling for dominance with his tongue. It was a burning sensation that was never just quite enough, like sampling something positively scrumptious and not being permitted to have more. He succumbed when he felt lithe touches upon his torso with talented hands. It was an odd feeling, as his skin was warm and those fingers were like ice, but it was not unpleasant. If anything, each brush of skin sent jolts of electricity coursing through his body.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Danny nodded slowly, closing his eyes as he felt Ghost Writer's arms envelop him in a tight embrace, feeling a trail of chaste feather-light kisses from his cheek to his neck. He felt hands trailing down his body and tugging at the remaining piece of his clothing until it fell past his knees. His moan was muffled as the ghost engulfed his lips once more and began to stroke his length.

He had trouble controlling his increasingly erratic breathing as he felt the rate of his heartbeat increase, enjoying the feel of those talented fingers. They danced around him, and surrounded him completely, bringing to him a heightened sense of pleasure. Danny moaned into the kiss, feeling the contact disappear from his mouth suddenly, only to have a welcoming tongue trace his bottom lip.

Ghost Writer pulled away from his half-ghost love to fumble with the remainder of his clothing, slowly unbuckling his belt and removing the accessory from his pants. His pace that suggested being in a rush was the last thing on his mind. His cold fingers guided the button of his pants from the slit, and pulled down the zipper with a cadence lethargic enough that the sound of each zipper stop being reached could be heard one by one.

"Tease. Hurry up." Danny accused, his shallow breathing slowly returning to a more normal pace, displeased with the lack of physical contact between them. He lounged forward and pulled down the remainder of his partner's clothing until the pieces of fabric rested at his knees with a pace that seemed like lightning in comparison with the previous tempo.

Ghost Writer simply grinned and closed the distance between their bodies with his mouth sucking on Danny's neck, leaving a messy trail of saliva down the slightly toned chest, pinning the halfa to the bed. He held Danny's hands captive with his own, their fingers intertwined, enjoying the sounds of pleasure coming from the body underneath him.

"M-more.."

He thought that the sight before him was his favorite, with the exception of the time he had found an original drafted version of one of his most enjoyable reads. His lover, his wife, his beautiful halfa, was panting softly, completely exposed, and wanting more. And more he would give. His body certainly agreed with his mind as he grabbed the strawberry-flavored lubricant from the bedside drawer.

"Touch yourself."

Danny compiled eagerly, feeling a wave of excitement rush over him and his hands swiftly became occupied with swift, stroking motions. He had always thought it wasn't appropriate to be pleasuring himself like this, to become entrapped by the satisfaction of the act, to want more, but appropriate got screwed over the moment he decided to sleep with a ghost. He was pretty sure the fact that his current situation touched somewhere along the boundaries of necrophilia was immoral enough to be worried about appreciating his self-generated satisfaction.

Lost in his thoughts and reveling in delight, he didn't notice that Ghost Writer had slipped a few fingers into his entrance and began to prepare for their activity. He was focused the intoxicating sensation that his preoccupied hands provided, starting to become extremely lightheaded and in requirement of release.

So close. He was so close.

Until a firm hand grabbed his both wrists and placed them over his head.

"I hate you," Danny whimpered with disappointment like a puppy who discovered his chew toy had been taken away. He frowned, and was frustrated as he became more in tune with his surroundings, feeling his erratic heartbeat rate slow down. His thoughts, no longer coherent to his absent logical self, ran in too many directions to keeps tabs on.

"Really now? And here I was under the impression that you loved me." Ghost Writer smirked, giving his halfa no warning before entering him, moaning at the tightness of the one under him. He hissed softly, enjoying the feeling of warmth that engulfed him, reveling in exhilaration. His free hand stroked Danny's length (to the latter's immediate delight) as a distraction from the initial displeasure of entry. Ghost Writer began to pull out slightly before pushing back in, altering his angle to some extent with every thrust.

"Mmnh..."

Ghost Writer placed his arms behind Danny's back for support as he lifted the lithe figure a distance from the bed until their chests were a few degrees from each other. Danny's hands were wrapped around his neck, his wrists crossing behind the other's back. In this position, Ghost Writer could discreetly pull the halfa closer to him for a split second with every thrust, heightening their pleasure.

If Clockwork had decided to make a sudden appearance and freeze time for eternity, he would certainly not have minded. He wanted this feeling to last forever. It was perfect; the heat he was plunging into filled him with an inexplicable warmth that surrounded his body, and the erotic cries of his lover beneath him imbued his hearing with indulgence. He felt good, great, and whatever term would represent the indescribable sensation he was enjoying. He grinned as he heard a sharp intake of breath and a loud moan of gratification as he hit his target.

"Ahh..I'm..allowed..t-to..be..ahh..c-contra..dict..tion..ing..." Danny whispered in-between moans, his breath coming in incomplete gasps. He was enjoying every second of this, feeling the pain ebb away with each passing thrust and his pleasure increasing. If this was what sin felt like, then he welcomed it with open arms.

"That's not..even.. a word" Ghost Writer replied, feeling the sudden fervent intensity of their physical interaction increase, sending him into a euphoric state of mind. He moaned his lover's name as he came, his grip tightening until he swore he had created some nail marks marring Danny's back. Keeping one arm steady, he used his free hand to hastily stroke the other's member. He smirked at the collection of noises his lover was making; quite like an alternative music and accomplishment to his pointed ears.

"I'm..I'm gonna.." Danny cried out as release hit him and everything that came out of his mouth formed into an incoherent string of moans. It had felt like for a split second, he wasn't in the room but floating somewhere in an enchanted, chemical-induced place. His entire body had felt as light as a feather, before reality came crashing down and the only thing he noticed was that he was fatigued. That, and the fact that there was an uncomfortable feeling of a sticky liquid spilled all over his chest he was familiar with all too well.

"Love you," Ghost Writer kissed Danny's cheek, running his pale fingers through soft, raven locks as he pulled out and rested his halfa fully on the bed.

They lay in silence for a moment, each enjoying the other's presence.

"Well?" Danny asked, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, a wry smile forming on his soft lips. "Are you cured of writer's block?"

Ghost Writer grinned, wrapping one arm around the others' lithe form.

"Not yet," he whispered, his tongue tracing the younger one's earlobe. His free hand traced light circles around Danny's inner thigh, enjoying the sudden gasp of surprise and pleasure. "Though I strongly believe that it is beneficial to try again."

x_x_x_x

A/N: I disappear for a year or two to come back with...well, this. At least I'm of legal age to be writing this type of stuff now.

Fun fact: I wrote a decent chunk of this in heroic couplets (AABB rhyming form) ... then smacked myself a couple of times upside-down on the head.


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